Author: admintwo

December 11, 2019

On the first flight back to Tucson. Unreasonably early flight (up at 4:40), had to wait a half hour or so before anybody showed up at the ticket counter. My big-dog status with United made me 1st in line, completed the check -in, emigration, security all in Spanish, which left me with a certain sense of accomplishment. Breakfast in Spanish (torta de tasajo – sandwich with dried beef, nicely toasted and about $3).

Waited about an hour and a half for our little plane. Before getting on board, I was asked the usual security questions: “Is this your stuff, did you pack it yourself, did you accept anything from strangers?”, except more out of habit, when they started to ask, I replied “bueno“, and the agent immediately changed to Spanish, apologized, and did the questions in Spanish. “¡Orgullo!.. Pride!

Can I speak Spanish fluently now? No. In my last class, I asked my instructor for an honest assessment; what she thought I knew, and what steps should I follow to improve my utility in the language. She had to ponder a bit, she said I wasn’t the typical student: my interests and questions tended to be “transactional” – (for example) “tell me in detail about how to give directions to tourists”. “Help me with these food and restaurant terms”. What was ancillary info for their “regular” students was typical for me, and the reverse: progression through vocabulary and grammar was necessary, but more incidental to my studies. I’m guessing I wasn’t their easiest student. The second teacher outlined areas of study (and more importantly, their sequence) so I can continue in Tucson and beyond. My progress is in my own hands now.

On top of helping me improve my language skills, my two maestras were instrumental in helping me understand the city  and some of its culture and charms. I like Oaxaca, it’s vibrant, seems to be more environmentally conscious than other Mexican cities I’ve been to. It’s culturally diverse, is the culinary capital of the country, has nice weather most of the year. The central part of Oaxaca is compact and safe. Oh, and cheap!

I hope to return with Kathy some time, maybe on a regular basis. It’s not a long trip.

Would I take 4 hours a day of Spanish again? Doubtful. But Kathy might enjoy a less intensive class while I scope out new adventures for us. 

I’d like to be writing this in Spanish – and I probably could with a little bit of quality Google Translate time, and that’d be fitting given the circumstances. But I’d also like to “strike while the iron is hot”, while I still appreciate what’s gone on the last couple of hours.

So, something’s gone wrong with my shoulder. The musculature might be inflamed from my uncomfortable bed or some sleeping quirk that worsened the “thickness tear” in my shoulder. Doesn’t really matter. The point is the pain has left me largely unable to use my right arm. I’ve been unable to concentrate on my studies, on my homework, etc. for several days now. Putting on a shirt in the morning has been torture the last couple days. My lovely diligent, organized, caring wife has been scrambling to find me timely medical for my return to Arizona the day after tomorrow while also juggling my father-in-law’s needs. But meanwhile, I’m in intractable pain.

My morning teacher adapted the class for my infirmity. She actually started writing down my notes for me because I’d wince each time I’d lift my arm to use the pen. Points for that. Instead of continuing in the coffee shop, we headed out and checked out some local architecture. Nice distraction. The class (my penultimate one) ended with best wishes and my thanks. Spent the interval between the classes feeling sorry for myself, having the ritual supermarket sandwich I’ve come to rely on, and a short siesta (without lying down) in between the two classes.

The second class started much like the first: “what did you do over the weekend”, “how are you” etc. The response, however, was completely different. We didn’t head to our usual afternoon cafe. I had asked her the word for a “sling”, and whether a pharmacy should carry it. She translated the word (I’ve already forgotten) but instead of leaving it like that, she brought me to a shop that sells them, then on to a pharmacy. Along the way, she asked what I was taking for it, and as an aside mentioned she’d worked for 3 years in a pharmacy, and what I was taking wasn’t going to do it! Which… I knew.

But wait, there’s more: earlier in the day, Lovely Wife had inquired as to whether I could buy a medication called “Tramadol” for her dad. I confirmed with a pharmacy that I in fact could not, without a prescription. However, as it turns out, pharmacies often have a doctor either on staff or nearby. The consultation is free. She got the referral slip from the pharmacy, we walked to the doctor’s office literally next door. He asked some pertinent questions, I answered most myself, the Teacher helped with some. I was proud of my understanding as well as grateful for her help.

The irony? The medication for which I got a prescription… TRAMADOL. Coupled with a sling (so I not longer have to hold my arm across my chest, which “gets old” quickly), I’m no longer writhing in pain. It still hurts, I’m still broken, but I can function. “Yezz” (my teacher) is an angel, and my wife a saint.

On the one hand, it seems like I’ve been here forever. I’ve stopped locking my door. I’ve started shopping at the supermarket. I know my way around (more or less). I know which sound is the gas company truck, and which is the guy with the bicycle-powered knife sharpening service. Students come and go (and this place offers an AirBNB too so there are frequent new faces at the breakfast table). My progress hasn’t been everything I expected (which is nobody’s fault in particular) – my expectations were simply in excess of reality.

On the other hand, it seems like I just started classes yesterday. The initial days were rough. They’re still rough, to be honest, the difference is the attitude I take with them – stress or equanimity? I’m trying to choose the latter.

I have 6 more days of classes. It’s Monday December 2, 2019 as I write, I leave a week from Wednesday. Tonight, I’ll take inventory of my interests as well as perceived skills and weaknesses. My teachers will do the same. And we’ll concentrate on what I can learn here, that will allow me to continue to improve. “Vamos a ver” – we’ll see.

Except when you’re going some distance, in a small Mexican taxi.

The last time I wrote I was on the upswing after a “failed relationship”. It’s been on the level for a week now; I have some mixed feelings about one of my teachers, but being more than half way through, I’m not going to change. Others have talked about how wonderful their teachers are, but I think in reality, it’s me, my relative introversion, and a degree of insecurity that keeps me from learner more, quicker. In a group (especially) in the marketplace, I’m loathe to speak up, even in a group I won’t typically interrupt the extroverts to contribute. Their loss. My loss.

To recap, assuming I remember a fraction of the last week, I had four days of classes (since the curriculum was revamped for me) followed by a skip day for a cooking class (great fun!). Saturday I joined a school-organized tour: it was interesting, but we had expected an opportunity to return to shops we’d checked out earlier, then the schedule really didn’t offer the time. We ran three hours late and I returned exhausted.

Sunday (today) I’d pledged to be a good lad, catch up on my homework and basically chill. But some other students were keen on a market about 30km away. It too was interesting but it too ran several hours over time with complicated transportation and a lot of walking in the heat. Would have preferred to stay “home”, honestly. We had a very tasty meal, however, and I didn’t get sick from it…

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Some of my classmates had mentioned personal meltdowns at the end of the first week. In fact this morning (after I wrote this, actually) one of my classmates admitted he’d had several, although I’m guessing they lacked the magnitude of mine. For me, it didn’t even take a week. After three days of classes, I was totally confused during the 4th, and sometimes 3rd hour of the day. It’s as if my brain was simply full – my teacher would ask me something I just learned (ostensibly), and I couldn’t remember what it was. I was near tears – twice. I’m smart. I know I’m smart. But I seem to be applying the same standards as I had as a teen, to a guy in his 60s. That’s doomed to fail.

There are a couple of approaches I can take:

• Reduce my hours per day or days/week
• Dumb down my lessons (few newer terms, more practice)
• Introduce “distractions” – areas of interest – travel, tourism, food, cooking that keep it interesting without overly sacrificing the learning experience
• Quit entirely (not an option)

Miracle?

I’d composed an email to the school Director (this may be a one-person shop with outsourced teachers, but in any case he’s the Jefe (boss)). I didn’t send it; I was having trouble owing up to my feelings (real or perceived) of failure, self-doubt. This morning, I decided to put my thoughts into visual form (“mind mapping”) mostly for my own clarity. Shortly before the beginning of breakfast I found the wherewithal to find him and ask to talk. He came up to the room, and I choked out what I’d been feeling and showed him the map. Perhaps not “the smartest thing I’ve ever done” but it was a pretty clever idea. Armed with a snapshot of the mind map, he met with the two teachers. Then in practically an instant (ok it was like a half hour) everything changed.

I had steeled myself into standing up to my perceived oppressors (exaggeration for effect…) – my evil teachers who forced me to take on “more than I could chew”. Instead, I worked out a new approach with the morning instructor, then again in the afternoon. Instead of finishing downtrodden, I was energized and excited for the next class. By coincidence(?) the afternoon Instructor came to the place I was having lunch, so we could actually chill (and eat) without actually being “on the clock” not that punctuality is particularly revered in Mexico.

So, everything’s changed. The class has gone from intriguing (beforehand) to soul-crushing, to being fascinating with unlimited upside. In less than a day. I’m impressed. Tomorrow in the morning, Teacher #1 and I will visit a local market and talk about local foods and ordering. In the afternoon I’ve completed my homework for Teacher #2, which is my recipe (in Spanish) for chicken saltimbocca. We talked about cooking methods along with some grammer – she’ll correct that and we’ll talk more about food.